


Long May She Endure

by melpomeni_mandy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melpomeni_mandy/pseuds/melpomeni_mandy
Summary: The battle for Ala Mhigo is won and the Warrior of Light shares her company with the Lord Commander.





	Long May She Endure

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel to the story Rumors. Although not necessary to read for said story, it gives more insight to what happened the evening before. Happy reading!

The day had been won: Ala Mhigo was free and the entire region of the Lochs—no—all of Gyr Abania was electrified with the sudden realization that the Garleans had been defeated. _They were free_!

But there was still so much to be done. The aftermath of the battle was a heavy, indescribable weight upon the shoulders of those who were victorious. The destruction, the prisoners of war they now had to contend with, the citizens who had lived in the city and under imperial rule and fought against a liberated city, and all those deaths…it was enough to give anyone a silent, burdensome pause.

And yet all of that, if only for one night, could be set aside for a moment to allow the revelry of the people to take flight and lighten the hearts of all who had fought. For those who had waited years for that day a single night to bask in victory was a well-deserved respite.

It was with this spirit in mind that Ahlis left the fortress proper of Porta Praetoria where she had been holed up for the better part of the afternoon that she decided to breath the cool desert air and sequester herself in one of the homely tents to relax. To get away from endless prying eyes, to forget the cramped stone walls…

“Ahlis!”

The voice caught her off guard and out of her thoughts as she walked through the encampment. The sight of the man in brilliant gold and blue regalia was unmistakable; he smiled as their eyes met, seemingly elated to have found her.

“Aymeric.”

Ahlis recalled the last time they saw one another. It was after the intense siege through the city all the way to the royal palace, constantly under fire, endless waves of soldiers, artillery, magitek. Her thoughts began to swarm as she recalled it pieced together in flashes. It was there in the Royal Menagerie when she saw him after it all, covered in sweat and blood, following in the procession with Lyse after the battle with…

“Ahlis?” There was his voice again and she snapped out of whatever deep, trembling headspace she had fallen into. Aymeric saw the look in her eyes; he recognized it well. He dared to step closer.

“Yes? What is it?” She asked, startled all over again.

His words for once failed him as he found himself wondering if perhaps this had not been a good moment to seek her company. That the aches and tribulations of that day—while entirely worthy of celebration—were too heavy upon the woman’s shoulders. Instead he held what was in his grasp towards her; it was a bottle, still unopened, with a label that clearly marked it as an Ishgardian vintage.

“Let us share a drink, for old time’s sake.”

Ahlis looked to his offering of wine and then back to him where she caught that look in his eyes, that calm, gentle smile he always shared readily with her and the anxiety within her mind slowly began to recede. How could she say no to him when all he desired was to share in the glory of their victory? Her need for solitude was great, but not so great as to deny him.

“Aye…I’d like that.”

Ahlis led them to an unoccupied tent that was well lit and comfortable against the coming chill of the night. There were cushions and a low-rise table to take meals; comfy but certainly different than the style of décor of living found in Coerthas and in much of lower Eorzea for that matter.

“A little different than the arrangements in Ishgard, I’m sure,” Ahlis commented off-handedly as she rummaged around for cups, wondering for a moment how he thought of the Near Eastern style of accommodations.

Aymeric did not seem perturbed in the least as he took his seat with her, accepting the small goblets that she managed to find for their evening of wine together. The bottle was uncorked and the wine flowed generously into each cup. Ahlis was curious as to which vintage he had brought for the occasion, impressed that it somehow made it all the way to Gyr Abania in one piece.

“To those who have fought for the freedom of Gyr Abania and Ala Mhigo,” Aymeric said to her then in an unexpected toast, cup raised up to her. “Long may she endure.”

Ahlis found herself speechless in that moment, frozen in her seat as she looked to him with wine in hand. Realizing that she must have seemed struck dumb by his words she hastily smiled and brought their cups together to commemorate the toast and took a drink. She drained half her drink before pulling it away from her lips, thirstier than she thought. There was a moment of silence between them as the mulled over the first taste of the wine, allowing time to appreciate its taste, the way it sat upon the tongue, its scent within the cup.

“This may be a redundant question, considering I have asked it before,” Aymeric spoke finally as he sat there watching her. “What will you do now? The day is won, although there will be considerable hardship for your people in the weeks and months to come.”

He _had_ asked that same question before, although she had never taken a moment to answer it, so long forgotten after that evening they spent together over food and drink. Ahlis had not sought the lord commander for more of his time since then…a small pity, but one she knew he would understand entirely. Aymeric enjoyed her company, for what little she managed to give of it, but beyond his sense of gratefulness she did not know where his seemingly boundless sense of attentiveness sprung.

“I plan to stay here and to help with the rebuilding efforts. I’m unsure as to what the other Scions may decide on doing, but I feel it best I stick around.”

_Lyse will need all the help she can get_ , Ahlis thought silently to herself. She did not doubt that the burden of being a leader to the Ala Mhigan people would weigh heavy on the other woman’s shoulders, but if the Warrior of Light could help lessen the load…?

“Having the Warrior of Light, a fellow countryman no less, will be seen as a great boon,” Aymeric gave a knowing look to Ahlis then, the importance of her decision not lost on him. She had become iconic to the Resistance, on par with that of their leader; it made sense she would see the significance of her choice to remain. “What then?”

Ahlis blinked, once more caught off-guard by him. It was unusual for her feel as if she was being verbally tossed about by another even though they had not a single intention of doing so. She felt within herself a small itch of frustration.

“I…don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Ahlis replied as her cup was once more half-way to her mouth to take another drink of her wine.

“It would be wise to consider a counter-attack imminent, given the heavy losses for the Garleans in Othard as well as here.” The countenance upon Aymeric’s face changed, a serious gleam in his eye was apparent as he nursed a careful, methodical taste from his own cup. “The reality of a heavy reprisal from Garlemald has already been a topic of discussion I have shared with Lucia.”

Ahlis tightened her grip upon the now near-empty cup of wine in her hands; she did not desire to have their conversation turn towards such grave circumstances that they would inevitably face. Of course she knew the Garleans would do something—the Twelve knew what—when it came to bring retaliation against Eorzea and their newly liberated fronts. But she couldn’t fault him: after all he was a warrior himself, and the lord commander had his duties, his thoughts always forward and ahead. And those duties had increased tenfold since the end of the war in Ishgard. Ahlis took a breath and decided then and there on what she would do.

“When I agreed to take your offer on a drink that did not include discussion on battle strategies,” Ahlis said simply, chin slightly lifted as if in defiance as she snatched up the bottle on her own to refill her cup. “We are supposed to be celebrating after all, and I refuse to let an Ishgardian sour my mood.”

Aymeric couldn’t help but cant his face downward, a small smile of acceptance upon his face. Ahlis had made her point and he would follow by it, all things considered.

“My apologies, consider the subject forgotten.”

“Good. Now, tell me about your arrival to Gyr Abania,” Ahlis allowed the wine to flow near to the brim before relinquishing it back to the table. “Not the logistics of it, I mean…just, your thoughts.”

He appeared then to take a moment to ponder her request, after all he had a great many of them when it came to the entire campaign of having to maneuver and deploy his men over a great distance. Ishgard, while not as many malms away as other city-states, hadn’t organized their forces in such a manner for quite some time. But that, as Ahlis had mentioned the moment before, was not her reasoning behind such a question. He focused his attention once more on her.

“What little I knew of the region paled in comparison once we arrived at the Wall. The journey itself was nondescript; however the work of the Resistance was apparent.”

“Well, we did clear the way more or less,” Ahlis couldn’t help giving a knowing, fleeting smirk to her lips.

“Aye, that you did. Moving an army takes time but knowing the Garlean forces would not pose as much a threat during our arrival was a welcome comfort.”

“I imagine you were debriefed by the General with the other Alliance leaders when the time came before the siege?”

“We were afforded a thorough timeline following the activity of the Resistance once we arrived here at Porta Praetoria; Master Alphinaud also elaborated on the Scions and their handiwork in helping Connor’s men, among other thing, such as your venture abroad.”

“Did he now?”

Ahlis smiled into her cup as she took another drink. Although Alphinaud took the voyage to Othard in stride she couldn’t help but recall his discontent at being the one to remain behind while she, Lyse, and his sister made headway in the field. He made good use of his skills in other matters however; the Doman Resistance Front benefitted greatly from his knowledge in tactics and strategy after all.

“Although, if I may say so, I always preferred hearing such journeys from your side of the story. You have a way of describing everything in a way that I cannot help but enjoy.”

Aymeric spoke with that same thoughtfulness as he always seemed to do when it came to her; it was enough to make her look back to him and find herself unable to stop from giving an thankful smile, albeit a small one. It was also enough to make her chest feel silly, awkward things to the point where if she didn’t take charge of their conversation then and there she would simply end up blushing and looking the fool.

“Well! Then let me regale you some more stories from the Resistance front, both abroad as well as here, in my homeland. Like old times sake.”

At that, Ahlis set her wine aside and began the retelling of her journey into Gyr Abania with Lyse and the rest of the Scions. She spoke of their travels by foot, the treacherous roads through the Fringes and the fighting they witnessed. She also spoke of the immenseness of Rhaglr’s Reach, how it made her feel to finally witness something so empowering to her people once more after more than twenty years…and how it felt to see it smoldering in ash and in flame during and after the assault by Garlean forces.

“Zenos yae Galvus. That was when you met him for the first time, was it not?” Aymeric asked as Ahlis had taken a moment to refresh her voice with a heavy drink of wine. “I heard that he also wounded you,” he spoke again, softer and with more care than before, as if taking a considerable risk in even touching the subject at all.

Ahlis paused for a moment, the news that he knew of her injury settling in her heart like a cold needle; then again perhaps that was not so surprising considering the merciless attack done to their people had spread like wildfire throughout Gyr Abania and how even the so-called Warrior of Light could do nothing against their onslaught.

“Yes, well,” Ahlis cleared her throat, appearing nonchalant on the matter. “It wasn’t too serious a wound; barely left a scratch.”

That had been a lie; it had been seen to by Krile before she had left with Y’shtola towards Castrum Oriens. Ahlis made sure her fellow Scion did all that she could in seeing that only the faintest of scars, if any, would remain from that man’s blade. Even now a pale, pink remnant of the slash that man had placed upon her body lingered; she wasn’t sure if it would ever go away despite Krile’s considerable efforts.

Ahlis continued the rest of her tale without waiting to see if he had any further questions about the Reach and its aftermath. As she described the city of Kugane and the treacherous voyage by sea to get there, Aymeric leaned back into his seat to listen, the thoughts of the Ala Mhigan Resistance’s near-destruction fading away to be replaced with descriptions of the Far East and its various splendors. He could listen for hours as Ahlis’s voice flowed to describe the Ruby Sea and how the clear sky became a myriad of color at sunrise and sunset above the horizon, to the small community of Sui-no-Sato down below the surface where a reclusive people lived every day of their lives unknown to the world beyond them. There were the pirates of the Confederacy, the kojin belonging to the red and the blue, and threaded throughout was the constant threat and struggle against Garlean elements crossing their path no matter where Ahlis and her companions turned.

Their cups had been refilled and emptied over and over as the stories carried on until finally the moment came when Ahlis, after having finished telling the journey into the Azim Steppe to meet with none other than Lord Hien and the trials of the Nadaam that the wine bottle came up empty. Ahlis couldn’t help but open her mouth slightly in disappointment.

“It looks like our wine is at an end,” Aymeric chuckled, his own cup having stayed mostly full in the interim from the last time it had been filled.

“I have an idea,” at that quickly Ahlis rose up from her seat and moved across the tent to where a number of boxes and a supply satchel rested. Aymeric watched her in interest.

“You hide your spirits as well, I see.”

“Oh, stop. It’s special,” Ahlis retorted as she finally found what she was looking for and returned to the table. The bottle was darkly colored with no label attached or any sort of marker of what it was. “ _This_ will put some hair on your chest.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The bottle plopped loudly on the table as Ahlis was grinning with anticipation. She sat back down, uncorked it and poured just a little of the clear liquid into her now-empty cup before offering it over to him. Aymeric didn’t know quite what to make of it, aside from the fact that it distinctly looked like a kind of hard liquor. Noticing his hesitation Ahlis sighed and swished the cup lightly, her head canting to the side.

“Well, well, looks like the great Lord Commander of the Temple Knights is too timid to try a true Ala Mhigan drink! I suppose it’s no surprise,” she gave a dramatic sigh at that, but that smirk never left her face.

Aymeric gave her a look, one where he knew a challenge when he heard it, and plucked the cup out of her hand. He briefly eyed the liquor inside of it as he brought it to his lips and tilted it back to drink its entirety in one gulp. What followed next was a look of pure distaste, followed by a gentle gasp as he actually managed to take it down, feeling its burn all the way through his throat. Aymeric wasn’t unfamiliar with the likes of heavier spirits, but this was another beast entirely. The expression of profound disappointment hadn’t left his face as Ahlis downright started to giggle in her spot across the table from him, awaiting his official opinion.

“Well?”

“That, was…” Aymeric cleared his own throat as he set the cup aside, licking his lips while the lingering taste of licorice refused to abate. “Somewhat unpleasant, truth be told.”

_Damn it_ , Ahlis thought to herself; she was so sure she’d have gotten a stronger reaction out of him. Nevertheless, in that brief moment from the liquor hitting his tongue to the dreadful swallow, she knew she hadn’t felt that kind of glee in what felt like ages. Despite the minor letdown Ahlis was still smiling.

“It’s called arak, and it’s absolutely an acquired taste,” she said to him, the edge of amusement not leaving her voice. The bottle was tipped once more to pour a few mouthfuls more into the cup. “Care for another?”

“I think I shall pass on this round, thank you.”

“Aymeric! I refuse to drink alone. This isn’t some kind of commodity, you know. It’s meant for an evening such as this.” Ahlis looked at him, as if just on the edge of pouting at the man. “Please?”

He smiled, unable to help himself despite how seriously adamant she was being. Then, with a resigned sigh he took the same cup into his grasp once more.

“Mayhap it is only the first drink that goes down poorly,” Aymeric offered before taking another mouthful, not the entirety of the cup like the last time, and returned it into Ahlis’s grasp. This time it did not seem to affect him as strongly as before, but the aversion towards the arak was still there in the way his brow pinched from the taste.

“See, you’re growing used to it already.” Ahlis settled in again as nodded knowingly at Aymeric before raising the cup with enthusiasm. “Now, where was I?”

\---

The hour began to grow late and yet the atmosphere within the encampment hadn’t let up in the least. Many of the men and women from the Resistance camps to the grand companies and even a number of the temple knights tried to release the aches and pains of that day’s trials which ended in the liberation of a people and city under the yolk of an empire. The food and drink were passed around, stories were told, and even a number of fireworks were lit to fill the sky with the colors of white, red, and violet.

The pair hadn’t moved from their place in the tent, the arak slowly lowering in the dark bottle as Ahlis’s voice increased in volume and frequency. Aymeric had also partaken of the drink but not to the extent of his exuberant companion. Her ambition to continue with her stories went on abated, as did her imbibing of the drink until she tried to push herself up towards the table once more for the bottle and found herself dipping off to the side and onto the rug and pillows, her balance skewed.

“Oop!” Ahlis laughed as she righted herself with her arm, thinking herself to be incredibly entertaining now. “Clearly I haven’ had enough.”

Aymeric was there beside her in a heartbeat to steady her, and as he took a gentle hold of her Ahlis looked up to him with a comical look of ‘do not touch.’

“I beg y’pardon _ser_ , but ‘m quite capable of holding m’drink!”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Aymeric released her once she managed to sit upright again, the bottle of arak and her cup now forgotten.

“I’ve enough o’ stories for a night, hm?” Ahlis sighed as she looked to him, a kind of tired yet sprightly look upon her face, the merriment of that evening not yet dissipating from her bright eyes. “I’d rather jus’ talk for now.”

The commander hadn’t left her side just yet as he watched with a mixture of curiosity and affection for her. He had never seen her ‘let loose’, as it were, and certainly never laughing or smiling to the extent she had that night. Her smile was a rare thing, especially when it was so genuine.

“Tell me what is on your mind, my friend.”

Ahlis opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped, and tried again only to laugh at herself, her face turning to the side as if suddenly bashful at the thought.

“Is'just…you’re here, y’know? Y’here and th’Alliance is here, but mostly is’you. Makes m’happy.”

He didn’t say a word as Ahlis spoke in her tipsy state, her expressions shifting from amusement over something to what could only be described as a drowsy thoughtfulness. Her eyes never left his face for long, focusing on his eyes and then far away, before trying to focus back again.

“I remember what y’said, before,” she spoke again slowly, as if focusing on each word was a kind of struggle to continue, her voice suddenly deep with emotion. “Not missing it…for t’world. Yeah?”

Aymeric nodded once; of course he recalled those words, how could he possibly forget them? Seeing him acknowledge her words made Ahlis reach out for him, her hands to his hands, and she held them with a needy gentleness he hadn’t witnessed in all the time they had known each other. The act moved him so, that when she spoke next he dared not let her go.

“Y’made me so happy, Aymeric,” Ahlis said to him then, this time her voice fighting to leave her throat as her eyes had fallen as they grasped onto each other. “Shoulda said it then n’there, but ‘m so happy.”

“…Ahlis.” His voice had become soft, knowing not else to say in that moment as he watched her sigh and remain there before him, hand in hand.

They stayed that way for a time, holding on together as the world outside carried on with laughter and song, made in celebration of their hard won freedom. When the moment came for Ahlis to look up at him again she looked weary, as if saying that confession had taken a kind of toll upon her. Then she closed her eyes and took it upon herself to keen over and fall against him, as if ready to sleep. With a patient sigh Aymeric helped raise her up to her feet with a far steadier hand than she could possibly manage and helped guide her to the makeshift bed within the tent. Wordlessly she settled herself in for the night, and when the blankets and pillows had been arranged proper he looked down upon Ahlis who had already seemingly fallen away into sleep. Even now he could feel a peculiar feeling in his chest, a sense of wonder at the contentedness he felt within that moment. There was no true word for it, or a way to put his finger on it, but it was enough to gently reach down and brush the strands of her hair from her forehead.

“Long may she endure,” Aymeric whispered, and away he left into the chill of the night.


End file.
